


Clean Up Crew

by tokidoki_smile



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF Stiles, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Completed, Dubious Consent, Frenemies, Frenemies with Benefits, Frottage, Grumpy Derek, Humor, M/M, Magic gone bad, Mutual Attraction, Nogistune Stiles, Outdoor Sex, Smartass Stiles, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Violence, WIP, Zombies, cock rubs, escalating sexual tension, food is love, kind of Magic AU, magical order, pain is food, peter is peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 05:32:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokidoki_smile/pseuds/tokidoki_smile
Summary: “Well, looks like I'm going to have to call him.” Peter huffed putting his hands on his hips as he hunched forward exhausted.“Who?” Derek panted, his knees wanting to give out under him. Who, could you reasonably ask for help in this mess?“Stilinski,” Peter replied as though he should know. He raised an eyebrow amused at his nephew’s confused expression. “You'll like him, he's a good kid.”A good kid? Debatable. A good swing provable, but that would come later.Attempting a magical ritual to commune with the deceased Hale pack matriarch leads to a monster on the lose. The remaining Hales must hire a dangerous Fox freelancer to clean it up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So instead of doing the reasonable thing and focusing on the WIPs I've got... I'm doing the unreasonable thing and posting a new story (it's closer to complete than the others). This upload is just a teaser really, apologies.

He should have known better.

He wasn’t some idealistic pup, he wasn’t some newly turned outsider, not even some doe-eyed girl, or starry-eyed idiot.

He was one of the last of the Hale line of werewolves; and he couldn’t believe he let this happen.

He watched as his uncle peeled himself up off the floor, the front of his white V-neck shredded and stained red in vivid, fresh blood.

He gripped his temple with his clawed hands as though trying to hold his rattling brain in place. He’d taken a pretty good hit; on top of the nearly, bone shattering crash with the heavy, steel shutter door as she’d escaped.

“Well, looks like I'm going to have to call him.” Peter huffed putting his hands on his hips as he hunched forward exhausted.

“Who?” Derek panted, his knees wanting to give out under him. Who, could you reasonably ask for help in this mess?

“Stilinski,” Peter replied as though he should know. He raised an eyebrow amused at his nephew’s confused expression. “You'll like him, he's a good kid.”

* * *

 

Derek growled pulling himself off the hood of his black Camaro, glancing at his phone before he jammed it in his pocket. Glaring at the run down old warehouse.

Peter had insisted he go in alone, that was twenty minutes ago.

Why did he continue to trust him? This predicament too, was the result of having trusted Peter Hale.

He clenched his jaw as he made up his mind and started towards the heavy side door.

He drew it open, screeching along the guide rail as he looked cautiously into the wide empty space. No sign of anyone. He took a deep breath scenting the air, nothing, not even Peter’s typically aggravating scent in the stale air.

He stepped over the runner and glanced about, a metal catwalk above him. But otherwise there was nothing, only steel beams and the empty concrete floor.

He was just about to turn back around when he caught something out of the corner of his, he bent backwards a smidge as a blunt object sliced the air just in front of his head. His eyes wide, he jumped back to the sound of laughter.

“Nice dodge Wolfman!” The skinny boy in the red hoodie laughed, slinging his wooden baseball bat on to his shoulder.

Derek stared wide eyed, in the light of the setting sun his amber colored eyes seemed to glitter gold.

“That is my nephew,” Peter called coming into view.

The boy turned to him, his smile settling into a smirk.

“I told _you_ , to come alone.” He griped pointing the bat accusingly at him.

Peter gave a nervous smile and shrugged.

“That was nearly half an hour ago. Besides, look at him,” Peter replied gesturing towards him. “I’m virtually alone.”

Derek turned from his uncle to the boy. Tall and thin tight black jeans and a loose-fitting hoodie: teenager. The boy rolled his head in Derek’s direction and stepped closer, inspecting him from head to toe and back. Derek pulled back from him a step. His youthful pale face peppered in freckles. He pursed his lips and shrugged.

“What exactly is this kid supposed to do?” Derek growled back at his uncle. Putting some space between him and the boy.

“Yo, I am right here,” The boy grumbled gesturing to himself.

“The _kid_ , as you call him, is a very capable…” Peter trailed off, looking at the boy.

“Stiles?” The boy offered with a crooked grin.

“We don’t need, whatever he is.” Derek snarled turning to leave.

“He is a former Keeper.” Peter called, knowing it would catch his attention.

Derek turned to him the boy had stopped paying attention flicking through his phone.

Keepers were exactly that: Keepers of magic, and relics; maintaining the balance, ensuring justice, protecting the peace. All things that usually put them at odds with the supernatural. However, the Order of Keepers had been on the decline since the dark ages. Still their reputation lingered, their headquarters was rumored to be one of the worlds greats repositories of magic and supernatural.

Derek turned back to his uncle.

“I trust him less than I trust you.” Derek growled.

Peter closed the distance between them, Derek eyed him warily.

“We don’t need trust. We just need to pay him.” Peter hissed, Derek glanced from his uncle’s face to the boy’s.

“Speaking of which,” Stiles interjected.

Derek and Peter stared.

“If you’re going to waste my time, I'm going to insist you pay me up front.” Stiles chimed with a pleasant grin, looking up from his phone.

Derek turned to his uncle, uncomfortable with saying anything else. Peter grinned.

“We can talk business then-” Peter called clapping his hands together.

Stiles quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Nah,” He replied with a shake of his head. “Bacon Hills, right?”

“Beacon Hills.” Derek corrected, the annoyance tingeing his words and plain on his face.

“Are you sure?” The boy asked looking confused. “I think Bacon Hills sounds right…”

“Nope,” Derek croaked, grasping the last straw of his patience. “ _Beacon_ Hills.”

The boy pouted considering it and finally nodded conceding.

“Alright, Beacon Hills it is.” He replied contentedly as he turned towards the door. He suddenly stopped and spun back around. “Oh, here’s this back.”

They boy tossed the black cellphone back at Derek before he turned and slipped out of the door again. Derek stared, the phone was _his_. When the hell!? He turned wide eyed to his uncle. What the hell was this mess going to bring now?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The details of the deal are discussed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the interest, I apologize, hadn't intend for that upload to be so tiny! I wasn't paying attention, my bad.

On the drive back, Peter explained what he knew about the kid. As a child, Stiles Stilinski (his real name as he understood it) had been possessed by a Nogitsune (a Japanese fox spirit). Despite the Keepers’ best efforts, the best they got was a stalemate between the evil spirit and the boy. He coexisted with the evil spirit and trained as a Keeper. Until he accepted it, and then he gained access to its insane wealth of knowledge and power. Power, dreadful enough to leave the Keepers and defy their orders.

Peter said the Fox worked freelance, playing any side and only getting involved when he found it interesting.

That was as far as the conversation got, before Derek caught that the kid had jerked his junky blue jeep onto an offramp across 3 lanes of traffic in his review mirror. Derek almost killed them trying to re-correct and catch the offramp, going against traffic. He wasn’t sure if the kid was trying to lose them or not, but since he casually continued his drive with Derek now following. He had to assume he wasn’t trying to make a break for it. Derek followed the blue piece of junk until he pulled into to a terribly out of place looking log building. It was diner, he only knew that because of the flickering neon sign that read Jim’s Cabin.

Derek glared at his uncle as he pulled into the desolate parking lot, and parked next to the only other vehicle: Stiles’ blue jeep.

Derek threw a glance at his uncle, who gave an equally useless shrug.

Derek saw Stiles appear between the two vehicles and pushed the button for his window to go down.

“Hey!” He called leaning forward, causing Stiles to stop and turn back to him. “What are we doing here?”

Stiles looked at him amused and confused.

“I’m hungry!” He yelled back patting at his flat belly and motioning to the diner; he turned and made for the glass door adorned with all sorts of papers and a sign for their hours.

“What’d he say?” Peter called leaning in on his shoulder. Derek shifted to look back, eyebrow cocked.

“He’s hungry.” He growled annoyed.

“Oh,” Peter replied unbuckling himself. “I could eat.”

Derek’s hands clenched the steering wheel and he had to reign himself in to keep from crushing it.

He took a few minutes to get himself under control before he killed the engine and followed the other two into the diner.

The inside of the diner was obnoxiously lit by fluorescent lights, on the bright side it was next to completely empty; he could see the redhead at the checkout eyeing him and the cook busy in the back, despite the dead diner.

He spotted Stiles and Peter at a back booth almost out of sight, Peter stood up and waved him over. Derek approached, and Peter motioned for him to go ahead and slide in across from Stiles.

Stiles peeked at him past the laminated menu and casually returned his gaze without a word as Derek and Peter arranged themselves in the cramped booth.

Derek glanced at the table and spied only two glasses of water, and two menus; they must have presumed he was not joining them. To spite Peter, he swiped the glass of water and downed it in one chug.

“We hadn’t ordered yet,” Peter grumbled, passing Derek the menu.

“I did,” Stiles commented casually, Peter rolled his eyes.

“Not a lot of places like this,” Peter commented trying to fill the air with small talk, neither Derek or Stiles were up for it.

Derek shifted uncomfortably in the silence as the waitress appeared.

“Jim says your order is going to take a bit.” She called drawing her pad from her apron.

“No problem.” Stiles replied. “I’ll probably add some more.”

She looked at him her eyebrow raised as she turned her attention to Derek and Peter.

“Oh Tammy,” Peter cooed with a sweetly mischievous grin. “I-”

“Two specials. Now go.” Derek barked dismissively. Tammy didn’t stick around and turned promptly to deliver the order to the cook and stay out of the way.

“So, let’s talk,” Stiles called closing the menu. “What are we dealing with?”

“No.” Derek snapped turning his eyes on him.

Stiles rolled his eyes but met his gaze head on.

“How much does the service of a Nogitsune cost?” Derek inquired looking from Stiles to Peter. Stiles raised his eyebrows and smiled wickedly shifting in his seat.

“ _Yon mon_.” Peter replied producing an old gold tinged copper coin with a square hole in the middle and rolling it across his knuckles. “Or, one iron 4 Mon piece.”

Stiles turned to Peter, leaning into the table. His whole demeanor tensing as his eyes sharpened, deathly focused on the coin rolling over Peter’s knuckles.

“No,” Peter laughed, watching Stiles as he flipped the coin to Derek who caught it effortlessly even in the tight space.

Stiles eyes shot at him, Derek swallowed, his eyes were not focused on him at all but the coin in his closed fist, as though in the next breath he would kill him for having it in his hand.

“This is not my offering, the guy on eBay gave me a deal for 4.” Peter called dismissively. “Lucky for me, he didn’t have a clue what they were really worth.”

Stiles relaxed, as though accepting his explanation and all the venom evaporated from him instantly as he eased back in the booth.

“Yeah,” He replied casually. “My services were readily available to anyone who made the trek and gave their offering. Of course, my offering bowl is now located in an Asian Art Museum in California...”

“Where I left my offering.” Peter chimed in.

“So, that’s it?” Derek asked, opening his hand to look at the haggard coin in his palm. He glanced between them again trying to gauge if they were joking. Both nodded. “Really?”

“You greatly underestimate how difficult that really was.” Peter recoiled aghast. Stiles snickered and shrugged.

“Normally, I charge what I feel like.” Stiles put in wiggling the straw in his water, rattling the ice as he brought it up to his lips with a foxy smile.           

Derek sighed, there was something about the two of them, together, that wore his nerves thin. He shifted slipping the coin into his jean pocket.

“That’s really enough?” Derek asked still concerned, Stiles looked at him the red straw still between his pink lips.

“What is a Kitsune to you?” Stiles asked returning his cup to the table and leaning in.

Derek looked at his uncle.

“Some kind of fox spirit?” Derek replied, asking more than telling; eyes still on his uncle for guidance, this had after all been his plan.

“A kitsune, even one like me, is still a deity,” Stiles explained passively. “Something you would call like a god, only, I was not obliged to be benevolent, I was free to be me.”

Derek wasn’t a deeply religious man, as a werewolf he was privy to the single truth that guided him in everything: You don’t know half of what you think you know.

So, this whole thing with a Nogitsune being some kind of god was not really a surprise.

“I could pick and choose what I wanted to be, and when I wanted to do it. I chose which prayers I answered and, yeah which I ignored. My choices were based on what I found entertaining.” Stiles continued, Derek looked from him to the table top as though it might have something to say. But he didn’t ask anything more, and the table fell quiet.

“Back to Stiles, question-” Peter began, trying to redirect the conversation, his eyes flicked up and he stopped; with a huffy sigh. Tammy was coming over her tray loaded with their food.

“I’ll be back with your food in a second.” She prompted towards them as she cradled the tray in her left arm; she took the first plate, a cheese burger with a mess of golden fries next to it and placed it in front of Stiles. A wide grin spread across his face as he moved his water out of the way expectantly.

She took the next plate a full chef salad decked out with all the trimmings piled high. And set it next to the burger plate. Next, she grabbed the small tower of golden onion rings with ranch dip nestled next to them. Stiles shifted the plates over. Then, she took the final plate with the tomato soup and grilled cheese; she paused there wasn’t any space unless they encroached on the other side of the table. Stiles reached up to take the final plate from her, as his side of the table was now almost completely full.

Derek stared at the food in front of Stiles, Tammy put the cutlery for three on the table and disappeared.

Stiles didn’t say anything as his eyes gleamed deciding which dish he was going to dig into first.

Tammy appeared again and deposited the special in front of them: country fried steak dribbled in a white gravy, with a side of green beans and what looked like a homemade biscuit.

Peters face scrunched disapprovingly at the food, Derek smiled, he paused; Stiles watched him French fry sticking out of his smile, before he dropped his eyes to his food.

* * *

 

After Dinner, or Derek clearing his plate. To then watch between, Peter picking around for what he found palatable, on his plate; and Stiles clearing all four plates consecutively without pause, and then ordering a slice of cherry pie.

The table was finally cleared, and business was ready to be discussed.

Derek sat quietly sipping his coffee as Peter took the lead and explained the particulars of their current predicament. Starting by explaining about the claws as vaguely as possible.

“Well, I want to make it short. We’ve got a zombie on our hands we need help with.” Peter dropped with a fold of his hands.

Stiles looked from Peter to Derek as he licked the last of the red cherry filling off his fork.

“A what?” He asked putting the fork down and focusing on the conversation.

“A zombie.” Peter restated.

“That’s a comic book thing,” Stiles called.

“Yes, a dead thing back from the dead, but not really alive?” Peter asked to make sure they shared the same definition of zombie. Stiles nodded. “That’s what we’re trying to deal with.”

Stiles was quiet a second before he erupted in a fit of loud, resonating laughter.

Derek narrowed his eyes, watching him. Holding the coffee cup as gently as he could, but his claws were out despite his best efforts.

“Wait, wait. Rewind-” He laughed, motioning in circles with his hands. “This was _whose_  idea?”

“His.” Derek growled.

“Mine.” Peter confessed, arms up as if he were giving himself up.

The skinny boy laughed almost doubling over on himself.

“And who let him do it?”

“Me,” Derek grumbled.

“Him.” Peter replied pointing an accusatory finger at him. Derek glared back at his uncle as the boy’s hysterical laughter resounded in his ears; like kindling to his already growing anger.

The boy straightened himself his face flushed, and eyes teary from laughing.

“I don’t know which part is dumber!” He sputtered as he laughed again.

Derek turned chin up, a tight agitated smile across his face, only to see Peter smile back at him pleasantly. That was it. Without a word he catapulted his fist into Peter’s face and his head snapped back striking the back of the booth before he shot forward again.

The kid's eyes flew open as Peter’s head rebounded off the table. And burst out laughing even louder than before, which he hadn’t thought was at all possible.

Peter picked himself up cursing as he titled his head up to try and stem the bleeding.

Derek, clenched his fist as the kid finally took a deep breath, calming himself. Face still pink from laughter eyes alight and teary.

“Alright, Stilinski-” Derek began turning his attention to the Fox across the table from him.

“Stiles,” He cut in, Derek looked at him. “Call me Stiles.”

“That’s your name?” Derek asked.

“Something like that.” Stiles replied with a small smile.

 Derek nodded, glancing down at his hands.

“So then, tell me what the old man’s been leaving out.” Stiles pressed, Derek met his eyes a little surprised. “It’s on your face man. Whose claws did you use for this?”

Derek clenched his jaw, anger and shame rising in his blood. He balled his fist, he’d been just as desperate and selfish as his uncle.

“My mother.” Derek answered finally, his voice gruff; he dropped his eyes knowing that tears glazed his eyes.

Stiles nodded.

“I’ll help.” He heard him reply in a surprisingly soft voice. Derek kept his eyes down, not sure of what to say, he said nothing. Just nodded and left to go check on Peter who’d gone into the restroom for paper towels.

* * *

 

He found his uncle sniffling over a sink in the men’s room.

“He agreed?” Peter sniffled, the blood still trickling from his nose over his lips and down his chin.

Derek nodded crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall.

“You don’t think paying him is enough?” Peter asked yanking a paper towel from the dispenser and dampening it. Derek shook his head. “That’s good.”

He looked at his uncle in the reflection of the mirror as he dabbed at the blood on his face.

“That’s good.” Peter repeated turning back to look at him. “He’s a trickster fox.”

Derek rolled his eyes and turned to the door.

“Good strategy by the way,” Peter called throwing him a bloody grin. “Keeping him amused. It’s a good strategy.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles pursue a lead and things come to a head ;D

Peter had decided that he would take on tracking the ghoul (according to Stiles, zombie was too derogative), since apparently Stiles charged by the hour for tracking services.

Two days with nothing. On the police scanner Derek had picked up, there were plenty murmurs, strange sightings all over Beacon Hills. But that was a typical day in Beacon Hills. There was an overabundance of strangeness, what was one more ghoul?

Two days of Stiles crashing on his couch (uninvited), Peter had insisted he let it slide since he may be needed at a moments notice, or, in all honesty might just wander off.

Derek was terribly unaccustomed to having house guests, namely because he wanted both of them gone.

“Anything yet?” He asked closing the lift gate behind him.

Peter eyed him leisurely from the couch and shrugged. Stiles on the other hand was sitting on the table, apparently making his way through his second family size bag of chips.

He wasn’t sure, but he had to wonder if Nogitsune weren’t part plague. Since Stiles had started staying at the loft he’d had to make extra runs to restock on groceries. The kid might literally, eat him out of house and home.

 “And seriously, are you eating again?” Derek snapped incredulously as he snatched the empty, crumpled up party-size chip bag from the floor.

Stiles stared at him brows furrowed in an uncomprehending expression as he slipped another chip past his salt-slick lips.

 “At least get off the table!” Derek huffed exasperated.

“I was going to pick it up later!” Stiles called as he uncurled his long legs and slipped off the table top. “Is he always such a sourpuss? No, _wolf_. Sourwolf?”

Peter shrugged smirking as he followed his frustrated nephew into the kitchen, Stiles stayed in the living room. Hip leaned against the table as he held the bag under his arm; simultaneously, devouring chips with one hand and scrolling through his phone with the other. Oblivious.

“Should you really be antagonizing the insanely powerful, ill-tempered, trickster fox?” Peter grumbled eyeing Stiles as he came to lean against Derek in the kitchen. Stiles turned a curious eye back to him, Peter straightened up, getting out the Nogitsune’s line of sight.

Derek turned sharply gawking at him, jaw hanging open. _He_ was the antagonistic one??

“Well then,” Derek began a tight annoyed smile across his face. “Have you done your part? You said you would track her down. It’s been two days, where is she?”

Peter sighed.

“She’s tough to track you know.” He sighed, watching Derek grab a mug from the cupboard. “But I’ve been talking to Deaton, he thinks there’s been something hiding out in that burned out clinic on Wayfair Ave.”

Derek looked at him, face expressionless. Peter noticed and added he’d only just gotten the phone call from the Druid.

“We’ll check it out then.”

“Tonight.” Peter interjected. “Seems whatever it is only pops out at night.”

“Seems about right for a ghoul,” Stiles murmured joining them in the kitchen, Peter and Derek froze; he looked at each of them, smiling crumpling the empty bag. “What?”

* * *

 

Derek stood looking at the burnt out husk, the building was condemned; it had been for years. Stuck in a limbo, cursed you could say. There’d been may purchase attempts and lots of people with plans, but nothing ever got off the ground.

The clinic had been a staple of the supernatural community in Beacon Hills, run by a South American _curandera_ , a healer. She never turned anyone or anything down.

Stiles came to stand next to him taking a long, loud, deep breath. Derek watched him as he held it, before exhaling it slowly.

“Damn…” Stiles hissed. “This place is brimming with magic.”

“You can smell it?” Derek asked curious. He couldn’t smell anything and he knew that that in of itself was iffy. The air only carried the scent of flowers and herbs, that he couldn’t quiet distinguish, like they messed with his wolf brain.

“Hmm…” Stiles murmured thoughtfully turning to him. “You can’t can you?”

Derek’s jaw set, there was no nice way to get along with this Fox.

“Protection spells, injected in to the soil, woven into the very air of this place. Who ever crafted this magic was very talented.” Stiles explained, awed fascination glittering in his brown eyes. “Old magic, it has a sweet taste.”

“Well, however strong her magic was, it wasn’t strong enough to save her…” Derek snarled moving towards the gate, he gripped the chain and pulled it apart like undoing a ribbon.

Stiles caught up to him as the chain-link gate creaked open.

Stiles eyed him, as he followed him up to the entrance. The fire had destroyed most of the back of the building, the stone skeleton was mostly intact, burnt black.

“Did you know her?” Stiles asked, stepping through the entrance after Derek.

His shoulders stiffened, he couldn’t smell anything. Not even the scent of Doritos that had lingered on Stiles throughout the drive over. He swallowed, his vision even felt weaker.

He looked over at Stiles. Annoyingly, he seemed completely unaffected.

“The _curandera_ , you knew her right?” Stiles asked again.

Derek swallowed, as he turned forward, debris crunching under his boots.

“She saved my life,” Derek answered voice quiet.

Stiles was silent, it was always strange when he was quiet. He stopped again and turned back.

He was crouched down, his fingers trailing a symbol on the floor, he looked up at Derek as he backtracked to him.

“She was powerful,” Stiles whispered tracing the circle carved into the ground. “But her power was never for herself.”

Derek stared at him, he could see light flickering from the symbol were Stiles’ fingers followed the line.

“We should split up.” Derek called turning to head into a different part of the burnt out clinic.

“That’s a stupid idea!” Stiles called rising to his feet.

“We’ll cover more ground that way!” Derek called back.

“No really, a super stupid idea!” Stiles yelled, but Derek was already several paces ahead. “Hold up!”

Derek didn’t bother to wait for him, turning sharply through a burnt out door into a collapsed charred hallway.

Derek felt something give underfoot followed by a sharp click. His heart sank, there was no telling what kind of trap he’d just stepped on.

Stiles came rushing up behind him.

“Don’t!” Derek yelled. Stiles froze looking at him, eyes dropping to Derek’s feet.

“Do you know what a trap is?” Stiles snapped annoyed, Derek’s eyes flashed blue. “Because I'm pretty sure you just walked into one!”

All he could do was roll, his own smart-ass retort on his tongue.

“How about you get me out?” He hissed through clenched teeth.

“What? Get you out? Nah, I thought you’d stay there- Yes! I know that! Give me a minute!” Stiles snapped, maneuvering around him. Wide amber colored eyes examining the mechanism of the trap, as he lowered himself on all fours, head close to the trap. Derek swallowed, eyes following the round curve of his ass; for a skinny guy he had a surprisingly round rump. He swallowed and flitted his eyes upward.

“What did I say?” Stiles snarked, sitting back on his haunches glancing up at him. Derek rolled his eyes. “I said it was a stupid idea. That symbol we passed? is like a energy signature guestbook.”

“What does that matter?” Derek growled.

Stiles eyed him, dumbfounded.

“It’s damaged but it read a lot of recent activity, not including us.”

“Wait, it could tell someone was here?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you.” Stiles replied matter-of-factly.

Derek huffed as Stiles bent down tinkering with the traps mechanism.

“Still,” Stiles murmured reaching long fingers delicately towards the trap. “She’s got the brains to set traps?”

Derek looked down at him as Stiles long finger dislodged a thin metal pin. There was a hollow clink and he felt the trap give under him, as he pulled his foot from it.

He exhaled sharply staggering back. Stiles still down on all fours in front of him. He let out a long sharp whistle as he eased back on his haunches in front of him.

“A trap- rigged with a silver bullet?” Stiles murmured admiring the small munition, like a gem.

“Silver doesn’t work-”

“Normally,” Stiles conceded rising easily back to his feet. “This one might.”

He tossed it to Derek, instinctively he reacted to catch it. In a split second he felt almost bowled over by a surge of burning power as Stiles snatched the bullet back. His legs suddenly feeling boneless he felt himself tip sideways, blindly, he reached out and steadied himself on Stiles’ offered arm.

He grinned amused as Derek regained his footing with a slight tremor. He immediately released his arm.

“What the hell!”

“It’s enchanted.” Stiles smiled, rolling the shaft between his fingers before he slipped it in his pocket. “ _Canus Aconitum napellus_ : Silver Wolfsbane. Extinct for the past 500 years…”

“Why doesn’t it affect you?” Derek panted, his head throbbing, his vision foggy; he almost couldn’t make out the cocky smile spread wide on his face.

“ _Wolfs_ bane. News flash! Not a wolf!” He laughed.

Derek growled shutting his eyes tight.

“You alright there, Sourwolf?” Stiles asked, he almost sounded concerned.

“Fine.” He growled opening his eyes, Stiles was in focus for about a 3 seconds before he went blurry again. “Is she still here?”

Stiles was quiet, even though he couldn’t see his face clearly. He could tell he was watching him intently.

“She was.” Stiles replied. Derek blinked his eyes willing them to focus. “It showed a strange wolf-not-wolf signature.”

Derek rolled his eyes trying to focus and finally he could see Stiles’ worried expression.

“Let’s go.”

“You sure you’re good to drive?” Stiles asked following after him. “Maybe I-”

Derek spun around on his heel and it left his brain spinning, as Stiles came to an abrupt stop, almost crashing into him.

“You. For no reason will be driving my car.” Derek snapped. Stiles nodded a breaths distance from him, perched on his tip toes making him just a tiny bit taller. Brown eyes wide and sparkling. “We clear?”

“Like mud.” Stiles replied, Derek’s shoulder stiffened and a low growl rumbled in his chest. “I’m kidding. Yes, understood sir.”

He didn’t wait for another smartass response but turned again and headed for the exit. The blood thumping in his temple.

He considered taking his threat back, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to drive them back. His head throbbed like a jackhammer was pressed against his temple. Touching that Silver Wolfsbane bullet was like being dunked in a hangover, and as a wolf, he was never hungover.

He had Stiles call Peter, and report that there was no significant trace of her, like she’d passed through. Derek struggled to gather himself together. Stiles seemed comfortable, intrigued, awed by the remnant wreckage seeped in gnarled magic. That weird, tangled up, residual magic that seemed to mess with him. The only thing Derek felt was nausea. He just wanted to get away, and get into bed.

The drive back was equally obnoxious, the slightest sound or glaring of passing headlight felt like an icepick to his head. Stiles was unusually quiet in the passenger seat of the Camaro, glancing at him throughout the ride back to the loft; but saying nothing.

* * *

 

“I’m bored.” Stiles whined from the kitchen. Feet shuffling about aimlessly in the open space of the loft. Peter hadn’t returned, might not at all- and that wasn’t all together a bad thing.

Derek rubbed his temple, his head throbbing; the effects of the wolfsbane bullet still resonating in his skull. He was too exhausted to deal with the whinny Fox.

“Read a book or something!” He snapped. The shuffling stopped, and it was quiet. He was trying to read the label of the pill bottle. Peter took the pills for headaches; but he couldn’t focus his vision long enough to make out the directions.

“I’m hungry.” Stiles huffed his head settled on the back of the sofa to his left.

Derek turned over his shoulder, there he was, chin on the sofa back, looking like a despondent puppy. He clenched his jaw; Stiles angled his head towards him watching him.

There was no doubt that this twiggy bottomless pit, had probably, already cleaned out his fridge of everything and anything edible.

“Shit,” He hissed leaning forward, trading the bottle for his cellphone to look at the time: 2:14 AM. There was probably nowhere to get proper groceries at this hour, and a trip to a gas station or convenience store was out of the question.

“Just- I can’t get anything right now Stiles.” Derek groaned pawing at his aching head. “Help yourself to anything you can find.”

“I can eat whatever I find?” Stiles asked awkwardly; his jaw moving against the back of the sofa, muddling his words.

“Yeah, sure. Knock yourself out-” In an almost untraceable motion, Stiles dead jumped from the back of the sofa to the front next to his knee. Derek jerked surprised.

“What are you doing?” Derek snapped bewildered as Stiles moved smoothly between his legs, on to his knees. Derek’s heart kicked up panicked as Stiles gripped his thighs and slid his hands towards his cock.

Stiles looked up at him, seductive caramel eyes lit by the distant kitchen light. Derek swallowed. He could hear the questions resound between his ears, as they were drowned out by the stampede of his heart. Stiles palmed the crotch of Derek’s black jeans and wasn’t disappointed at the hard mound he found there.

Derek’s hands dropped to his sides, the protests dead on his lips.

Stiles played with him, hands applying heat and pressure in a tantalizing manner. That had small pleased sounds escaping from Derek’s parted lips.

Stiles nimbly unbuckled, unbutton and unzipped Derek’s jeans leaning in to torment his clothed cock. His skin prickled, at the sensation of Stiles’ wet, hot, mouth just separated from him by the thin fabric of his underwear.

He lifted his hands, to touch him, but stopped himself. He wanted to touch him, to run his fingers through his crown of brown hair. Pull him closer, pull him in. Take his lips and taste him. But instead he balled his fists, blunt nails digging into his palms.

He groaned, his head dropping back onto the sofa. The tempting touch of his playful tongue as he licked him made his dick twitch with anticipation. Stiles smiled as his lips met his sensitive head, Derek felt the blood in his body wash out of him. The wet heat and pressure of Stiles mouth was mind blowing as he drew him in. His hips bucked involuntarily, seeking the tight heat of Stiles’ mouth. He gasped, as he felt the flat palm of Stiles’ hand on his chest press him back. He surrendered to it, letting Stiles hold him there. He moaned as soft, slick lips slid up along his shaft, before taking him in to deep, tight pleasure. He shuddered, his whole body undone by Stiles’ skillful tongue play.

It was something unlike anything he’d ever felt, sure it’d been a while. He was getting used to Stiles running his mouth; he just had no idea what amazing things he could do with it. He groaned, he could feel his body tightening up. Stiles’ head bobbed in his lap as he sunk deep. Derek gasped, breath leaving him sharply.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on. Something left his lips, but he couldn’t be sure it was even words.

Derek jerked forward, hands grasping Stiles head, as he felt his release shoot through him, out of his control, filling Stiles mouth and throat copiously. His body shuddering as the waves of his orgasm tore through him as though to shatter him. He groaned, whimpering as he felt the last of it, like residual shocks from an electrocution.

Stiles’ lips moved around him slowly, he could feel his throat work around him swallowing him down, licking him clean as he drew his lips back, tongue flicking around his softening cock. With a final short swipe of his tongue and obscenely delicious pop of his lips Stiles withdrew from Derek.

Stiles tucked him back into his jeans leaving them unzipped as he rose back to his feet; leaving Derek an undone puddle of Alpha.

“ _Gochisosama deshita,_ ” Stiles replied in a sing-song drawl, licking his lips as he spun on his heels and headed off.

Derek panted, catching his breath as the lights finally disappeared from his eyesight. He felt a million times better, totally drained. He slid back into the couch feeling boneless. The headache barely a memory. He sunk into the blue sofa, eyes heavy and breathing slow, relaxed. He felt like his head was floating, disconnected from his body, but feeling _oh, so good_ as he sank into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation note: At the end, Stiles' says "Gochisosama deshita" which translates to thank you for the meal.
> 
> Also, I'm keeping the Rape warning up there, as precaution. There isn't a rape planned for this story. Though some dubious consent is in there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fox Werewolf tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late upload. >-<  
> This one's a shorty too.  
> I'll make up for it with a juicy update soon!

Derek would have thought the whole thing was some insane dream, were it not for the salacious way Stiles kept licking his lips every time he’d catch him looking his way.

Even the most casual glances from the Fox, seemed to carry a great heat in them that made his pants grow a tad tighter.

He wasn’t interested in ignoring it, but there was no opportunity to speak with Stiles. Peter was suddenly very intrigued with the trap they found at the clinic, he occupied himself with records regarding the location. Very interested in the bullet; that Stiles had described in great detail, refusing to actually let him see it.

Peter assigned each boring leads to pursue, Stiles protested; but caved in out of curiosity. Derek was tremendously distracted, despite his best efforts. It had turned into a cat and mouse game, unable to resist the thoughts that flooded his brain every time he met Stiles’ eyes.

Cooped up, researching, he wondered if his uncle noticed the change in their interactions; if he did, he said nothing about it.

It wasn't until two days later, when he felt they were properly alone. The two sat in comfortable silence, the sun sinking slowly into the horizon. Stiles sat reading, Derek stood glowering over a map speckled with supernatural sightings.

He was supposed to be looking for patterns among the colored dots; but he would find his gaze drifting towards the Fox, with no pattern to be found.

He internally scolded himself, he was too old for idiotic crushes.

The snap of his book closing caught his attention, Stiles got up and went into the kitchen to search for a snack. Derek had stocked his cupboards with all sorts of processed, artificial crap, and junk food just for him.

He watched as Stiles reached for the top most cupboard where he'd stashed the chips. Stiles’ shirt rode up his side revealing pale skin as he made his selection.

Derek was completely captivated by the mundane task. He watched as Stiles went on searching for the dip.

“Hey,” he called from the kitchen, mid search. “Where's the dip? I thought you got some.”

“It's in there.” Derek called, eyes back on the map, secretly enjoying Stiles’ search.

After watching him go through literally, every cupboard and the fridge twice, Derek finally got up and sauntered into the kitchen for a close-up view.

Stiles looked at him a little annoyed.

“Where?” He huffed, Derek smiled and kicked the bottom cupboard with his boot.

Stiles rolled his eyes and opened the cupboard to retrieve the dip.

“That has to be the most inconvenient place possible.”

“Matter of opinion,” Derek shrugged.

Stiles rose upright as he abandoned the dip on the counter and leaned his hip against it, eyeing him with an inviting smile.

That was enough for him.

Derek pinned him, Stiles looked him dead in the eyes. His expression, unreadable. Derek could feel his body trembling. Stiles showed nothing, his body gave off no chemo-signals. He was going in blind.

His hands trembled, he ached to touch his beautiful face, kiss the dusting of freckles on his cheek, jaw, neck and follow them anywhere they might lead. But, he didn't. He wondered how Stiles saw this, as a threat or as a come on?

Nothing, and no one had ever made Derek Hale feel like a hormonal teenager.

He clenched the counter, and went for it, jabbing his knee between Stile’s thighs. He let out a small gasp at the suddenness but didn't recoil or push him away. Instead, he leaned his hips into him, and rubbed back.

Derek shuddered at the feeling of Stiles rubbing himself against him. As he pushed closer into him.

Stiles face was flushed, lips parted as he caught Derek's eyes. Stiles gripped the counter, as Derek's arms trapped him tighter. Stiles moaned, smiling wickedly at him, biting his own lip red.

Derek wanted to put his hands on him, but he resisted. Stiles body shook against him, as he full force crashed into his chest. Bodies flush to one another, rubbing together. He could feel Stiles hot breath on his neck. The feel of his lips as they haphazardly touched against his skin.

He was getting close to the edge, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off the Fox much longer.

When blaring from the living room:

_In touch with the ground._

_I’m on the hunt, I’m after you._

_Smell like a sound I’m lost in the crowd and I’m hungry like the wolf._

Derek froze, Stiles snickered as he slipped back from him, whiskey eyes glittering with joy. That only seemed to make Derek want him more.

“I think that’s for you,” He smirked biting his lower lip.

“Really?” Derek groaned.

Stiles shrugged amusedly as Derek pulled himself from him. Heart still hammering in his chest, breath short, not to mention the current awkward situation south.

“What?” He barked answering the phone in the middle of the chorus.

“ _Well, hello to you too nephew._ ” Peter recoiled on the other end. Peter’s voice was like a bucket of ice water.

“What do you want?”

“ _Guess that’s all one can hope for with you…_ ” Peter sighed. “ _I’ve got another sighting for you and our Kitsune friend to check out._ ”

“After Dark again?” Derek asked glancing out at the sun already behind the nearby buildings. Heavy clouds were stretched out across the sky like a dark magenta blanket.

“ _We’re hunting spooky creatures, I think that’s kind of par for the course._ ”

“What’s the address?”

“ _Miller Park._ ”

Derek’s heart fell, he recognized it. He and his sisters would play in that park after school sometimes.

“Got it.” Derek replied ending the call, he turned back toward the kitchen, Stiles’ stood leaning against the doorframe. Whatever mood they’d shared before the call had passed.

“We got a lead?” Stiles asked around a mouthful of chips.

“Yeah,” Derek replied clenching his phone in his fist, moving towards the lift. “Be ready to go by midnight.”

“Where are you going?” Stiles called confused.

“I need some air.”

Being around him was more than distracting, the damn Fox was intoxicating. He couldn’t blame him for it. He was the one getting lead around by primal instincts. He needed to get his head in the game. She was smart enough to set traps, he couldn’t go in again head clouded by pheromones.

Just as he was closing the gate, Stiles slipped into the lift. Zipping up his red hoodie.

Derek stared at him, Stiles patiently waited.

“I was going alone.”

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles replied.

Derek watched him, brows furrowed as he pushed the button for the ground floor.

They rode down in silence.         


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, I got behind, no good excuse >__<
> 
> Some heart to heart time, and they have their first real encounter with the Ghoul-  
> It goes... well, not so good.

Stiles detoured to his jeep to grab his baseball bat. Before jogging to catch up with him.

They walked side by side in silence. Derek glanced at him, expression contented, bat tucked under his arm.

He looked like a delinquent, up to no good.

“Why are you tagging along?” Derek grumbled.

Stiles glanced over at him.

“I wanted to go for a walk.”

Derek released a sharp exhale through his nose.

“You look like you’re up to no good.” He growled looking down the empty street.

Stiles’ smirked wide, like that was a complement.

The loft was located in a sparsely populated area. Other warehouses and fenced in areas, but not really a lot of neighbors, part of the reason he’d picked it.

Derek just walked, Stiles followed at his side strangely silent.

They walked in silence for several blocks, long enough for the sun to fall obstructed by the buildings and the streetlights to blink on above them.

Long enough for everything roiling inside of him to settle, and realize he was heading towards the park on the east side Beacon Hills on foot.

“What’s with the bat?” Derek asked finally tired of the silence.

Stiles glanced at him, somewhat surprised.

“This old thing?” Stiles asked holding it up.

It was old, the soft color wood with the faded brands; ash he guessed from the faint scent.

There was a lightness to his eyes as he looked over the bat.

“I got it from my old man,” Stiles answered. “The summer before…”

Derek glanced at him, he seemed unsure, pained by whatever it was that followed that summer.

“Before you were possessed?” Derek asked taking a guess.

“Possessed seems like such an ugly word for it…” Stiles replied lowering the bat as they came to the cross walk.

Derek pushed the button as he turned to meet his eyes.

“Isn’t it?”

“Possession by definition is an act of having or taking control of something…” Stiles replied watching the black car drive by.

“How much of you is Stiles?”

“See that’s what I mean. I am all me, and all Nogitsune.” Stiles explained as the light changed and they started on again. “That’s why possession doesn’t feel right.”

“But you weren’t born with the Nogitsune’s powers.” Derek called over his shoulder.

“Some werewolves exist as the result of a bite or a scratch, not all are born werewolves. Does that make lycanthropy a possession?”

“The bite doesn’t have a will of its own.” Derek replied glancing back at him.

“Doesn’t it?” Stiles called with a cocky smile as he came to walk alongside him. “I mean, don’t you guys have some inherent instincts that are pretty hard to ignore?”

“Yes.” Derek replied, clearly surprising the Fox. “But it seems to me that what you have is on a whole other level.”

Stiles nodded, with a wicked glint to his eyes like it was a secret he was bursting to share.

“You have no idea!” He grinned.

 **Danger**. He felt it flash bright red in his head like a neon sign. They were not in the same league, werewolves were not typically thought of as deities. So possessed or not, whatever Stiles was; was no doubt as powerful as it was dangerous.

“There’s the elementary school.” Derek called. “Miller Park is one block over.”

Derek glanced at the familiar profile of the school building, the brick building faced the park. A green expanse and a play area full of toys; bisected by a walking path, the basketball and tennis courts still had lights, but the park was empty and dark.

“Here?” Stiles called behind him.

“That’s what Peter said.” Derek called crossing the empty street.

Nothing seemed out of place. There weren’t many places to hide on the perfectly manicured grounds. Derek headed towards the toys. Stiles followed after him.

“This doesn't make any sense...” Stiles murmured, biting at his thumbnail as he paced the log barrier between the grass and the play area. He glanced down at Derek, crouched down examining the patch of course wood chips. “Why here?”

Derek stood up making his way under the red wood jungle gym.

Stiles scanned the area as he walked through the swing set after him.

Derek ducked, crouching under the slide and knelt in the small space. He scanned it, it was tight, but just the right size for a little one.

He remembered playing there when it felt big. He moved to crawl back out, his hand falling on the beam above him as he pulled himself out. He stopped, there was an indent. He moved back and peered at it in the faint light of basketball court just across the path.

It was a roughly carved spiral, connected to two more spirals.

Derek recognized the symbol, he’d carved it. A triskele.

“Does that mean something to you?” Stiles asked craning in to see what had caught his attention.

“Yeah,” Derek murmured tracing the rough curves of the triskele. “Family.”

Laura had been so freaked out. Cora’s claw had popped out on accident; arguing for the slide with another kid. She’d freaked out and ran under the jungle gym refusing to budge.

He’d followed her and calmed her down by helping her draw the triskele with their claws.

Laura had scolded him for using his claws in such a public place. But it’d been worth it, Cora had calmed down, and thought it was the coolest thing ever.

Stiles eased back giving him space.

“Derek,” He called. “What did your dead girl look like?”

“Black hair, nothing really stood out. She’d been unclaimed.”

“Was it a car accident?” Stiles asked.

“I think so,”

“Did it damage her face?”

“What’s with the questions?” Derek asked climbing out from under the slide, body going stiff instantly as the scent of decay suddenly flooded his nose.

“Is that her?” Stiles asked eyes fixed on a figure on the other side of the basketball courts.

Derek’s muscles tighten, the wolf growling low in his chest at the sight of her.

“Yeah,” He snarled.

She cocked her head and then broke off at a mad dash. Derek chased after her.

“I’m going to head her off!” Stiles yelled breaking away from him.

He didn’t reply, she was fast and she already had a head start as he dashed between the fences separating the basketball courts from the tennis courts. Derek ran hard trying to keep up, she turned left sharply heading onto the main street.

“Shit!” Derek hissed.

Suddenly he caught sight of Stiles, heading her off and causing her to veer between the buildings.

“Keep on her!” Stiles yelled disappearing again.

Derek growled as he pushed himself to go faster. He could feel the wolf come over him. His lungs feeling like they were catching fire as he chased her into the constricted alley. Following her through the poorly-lit concrete labyrinth.

He could just see her up ahead, under the orange light of a lone overhead light. She was just about to clear the alley when she came to a jolting stop.

She threw her head back, as he closed on her and she shuffled back. As he reached her he noticed Stiles had somehow managed to get ahead of her, effectively blocking her from the only way out. They had her boxed in.

There was no escape now.

He chanced a glance at Stiles, a wicked glint lit up his eyes as he raised the bat ready for whatever move she might make.

She growled body hunched turning from Fox to Wolf as if deciding which she had better odds against.

“Do we need her alive?” Stiles asked causing her to turn in his direction.

“She’s not alive remember?” Derek replied clenching his clawed fists as she turned her shadowed eyes to him. In the distant light he couldn’t see any readable features. But the smell coming off her, he didn’t know how they hadn’t found her on scent alone.

“So, then we’re go on by whatever means necessary?” Stiles asked clenching the bat in his hands. She turned back to Stiles lowering herself to the ground.

“Yes-” Derek only just got that out before she was lunging at him claws slashing towards his throat, he leaned back narrowly avoiding her.

Stiles swung the bat at her head and Derek was sure it would kill her, but she just dropped out of sight, directing a fist straight at his gut. He staggered back suddenly short of breath; spinning blindly fast, she redirected her attack at Stiles who laughed, jumping back from her as he swung the bat.

Every swing should have been a direct hit, yet somehow she managed to dodge every blow, forcing him back.

“Stop playing with her!” Derek growled, lungs feeling tight, catching sight of his softly glowing, white-gold eyes.

“Ho, ho, ho...” Stiles laughed, grin humorless, dangerous and sharp. “I am **not** playing right now. She is crazy fast!”

Stiles tightened his grip swinging at her again and again, missing each time as if she knew his swings.

“Fuck this,” Stiles snapped. “I'm going to fry her ass!”

Stiles dropped the bat and lunged at her, the air crackling around him. He grabbed the stunned ghoul by the shoulder, directing and electrified fist right into her chest. Her body shook violently as Stiles laughed.

She crumpled to ground as though she were boneless.

Derek looked down at her motionless body, it was over. Just like that.

Stiles snickered victoriously stepping over her.

“See?” He called with a sigh. “Easy-peasy le-”

Just then she shot back to her feet.

It was like time slowed; Stiles only just saw her, she was whirling towards him claws raised. He slammed into Stiles knocking him against the wall, the claws just missing his own face and neck.

She didn't wait and turned dashing down the unobstructed alley and into the main street. Stiles glanced between her and Derek as he staggered back against the brick wall.

“What the hell you stupid wolf?” Stiles snapped. “You don't need to protect me!”

“Never mind that, go after her!” Derek snarled the wolf fading from his face.

Stiles looked at him before bounding after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promised juicy update to follow, it was too long and so I had to split it up.
> 
> A/N: In case this wasn't very clear (I did only mention it here and there) Talia Hale's claws were used on a substitute, a female OC that died in a bad car accident and remained unclaimed. The Ghoul in the story is animated by the claws, but has no real conscious thought.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to sum up this chapter... I should've updated the tags.  
> As promised, the juicy bit, hope it's to your liking.

Derek sighed looking down at the wound on his chest, his shirt was shredded. Blood blooming around it, he pulled the collar down. Three parallel lines cut across his chest. They weren't deadly but they stung pretty bad. It was the dose of Alpha venom, that left him dazed and struggling to breath. He slid to the ground, and shadow fell upon him, he looked up. Stiles was standing there looking at him.

“What are you doing? Why didn't you go after her?” Derek groaned pulling himself back to his feet.

Stiles helped him up, scanning the claw gashes across his chest, oozing dark blood.

“I didn't know how bad she got you...” He murmured eyes locked on the injury.

“I'm fine.” Derek groaned.

“You're not,” Stiles replied finally meeting his eyes. His pupils were blown.

His heart staggered, reading the obvious signals coming off him. His body temperature was up, heart beat accelerated, he could be winded, or worried but he knew it wasn’t; he was turned on.

A shaky breath escaped his parted lips.

“You're in pain.” Stiles exhaled, licking his lips and leaning into him.

His eyes fluttered shut, he could feel the puffs of his breath, cool against his shredded skin. He winced, but with his proximity and the hormones exuding from his skin… His brain was intoxicated.

“Give me your pain,” He breathed, eyes drunk, nose following the line of his collar bone. Lips hovering over the wound. Derek looked down at him. Brown eyes dark but glittering, like dark stars.

“You, eat pain?” Derek asked confused, the hormone fog clearing just a bit. “So the other night...?”

Stiles' smiled playfully.

“You said I could eat whatever I found, I found _you_ in pain. So I helped myself-”

Derek roared, anger shattering the haze as he grabbed him by his sweater and pinned him against the brick wall face first. The Fox laughed jutting out his hips, rolling them slowly against his groin.

He shuddered, he was aroused, angry, hurt, and confused.

“Come on,” Stiles laughed. “You felt good, I felt good, what's the hang up?”

Derek could feel his heart hammering against his rib cage, all the while aching.

Everything about the damn Fox was dangerous and enticingly divine.

“Do it,” Stiles panted. “Fuck me right here.”

Derek swallowed, releasing the grip on his sweater, but not pulling away from the enticing shimmy of his hips against him. With a roar he finally he stepped back.

 He should just leave. Go, try and pick up her trail, forget the whole thing. Keep away from the Fox. But he didn’t move...

He could feel the heat coiled hot in his gut, and knew he wouldn't get 5 feet from him. He wanted him, bad, even if it killed him...

The smile, Stiles threw him over his shoulder at the sound of his belt unbuckling; was pure victorious satisfaction.

His own hands hastily undoing his belt buckle and tugging his jeans off his narrow hips.

Derek was breathless, looking down at Stiles perfect pale ass.

“Hey, check my left pocket.” Stiles called watching him.

Derek glanced at him and leaned against him. His hard cock pressing against warm exposed skin, Stiles shuddered. Derek's hand slipped into his pocket retrieving the content: a small bottle of lube, and a condom.

“You planned this?” Derek growled into his ear. Stiles eyes fluttered, a smile playing on his lips.

“Always be prepared. Boy scouts motto.” He replied.

“Hmm,” Derek hummed. Pressing a little harder against him feeling the Fox's whole body quake.

He stepped back from him, popping the top to the lube with his thumb, pouring the content liberally down the cleft of his ass, Stiles hissed at the feel of the cold liquid trickling down.

“Dude,” He cried. “Generous much?”

Derek didn't reply, as he traced the path of the lube to his tight opening.

Stiles' breath hitched. Derek watched his expression, mesmerized as he traced the circle of tight muscle with his finger. Eyes screwed shut, mouth slack as if whatever he was going to say had dissolved.

He prodded, pushing one finger through. Moving it smoothly in and out, and then a second. Stiles moaned, exhaling a breathy _fuck_ , forehead against the brick.

His hips matched the movement of his fingers, and it was hard not just getting lost in it.

Derek licked his lips, realizing the straining needed between his own legs.

He added another finger, quickening his pace and twisting his wrist to Stiles' giddy delight.

Finally, short of breath he drew his hand back from him. Tearing the condom wrapper with his teeth as he drew it over his hard cock.

“Stiles...” He growled as the Fox went pliant, he bent him forward and positioned himself at Stiles hastily prepared entrance. Driving into him devastatingly slowly, inch by solid inch stretching him and filling him up.

Stiles moaned between choice curses and short breaths.

The tight heat of him made his mind almost go blank as he buried himself to the hilt in him. He jerked his hips back suddenly just to hear the crisp slap of skin to skin as he whipped back into him with a few staggering quick thrusts; that left Stiles cursing and crumbling against the brick wall.

Stiles moaned fully, at his mercy. He gripped his bare hips and positioned him where he wanted him. Slowing his strokes and drawing from him only to drive into him deeply.

Stiles cursed pushing himself away from the wall. Derek slipped his hand under his shirt, groping the supple flesh of his chest and hip; holding him against his chest, burying his face in the crook of his neck and fabric of his hoodie; rich in his scent. Stiles laughed leaning back into him. Moaning as Derek thrust up in to him, hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves. Stiles squirmed in his grasp, on his tiptoes as Derek struck his prostrate again and again. Stiles whimpered desperately begging him to stop.

“I'm coming!” Stiles cried fingernails digging into his hips.

“ _Then come._ ” Derek growled through grunts, teeth skirting the jugular vein of the Fox's neck.

Stiles whined, body quivering as Derek's  thrusts rocked him.

He was close too, as he angled his hips to assault his sweet spot.

“Derek!” Stiles cried. “ _Fuck, fuck, fu-_ ”

Stiles stopped short, as his orgasm shook him, ropey opal ribbons splattered the brick wall. Stiles moaned, body going slack in his grip as Derek felt himself shoot into the condom inside Stiles.

Derek panted, nuzzling the sweat slick skin of Stiles’ neck. Muscles singing from magnificent excursion. He felt like he could tear down the moon, chest heaving, the cocktail of hormones flowing in his brain better than any drug.

Stiles disengaged his claws; he hadn't even noticed that the Fox had been clinging to him. Fingernails dug into his neck and hip as he returned him to his feet, drawing his softening cock from Stiles with a readjusting groan.

Derek slipped off the condom, tying it off and dropping it into a trash can as he tucked himself back into his jeans.

His breathing was returning to normal, even though his heart was still racing.

He felt amazing, his fingers tingled with the feel of energy he didn't realize he had. He touched his chest, the wounds were healing but there was no pain or discomfort. He felt too good to even remotely care.

There wasn't any pain, nothing had ever felt that good. That's what made it dangerous. 

“So, my appetite is a little weird…” Stiles murmured pulling his pants back up, glancing over at him. “I can eat people's pain. You'd think that would be a blessing...”

Derek stopped himself from meeting his eyes, he didn't want to see if he looked as sad as he sounded.

He had to admit, his heart broke a little when Stiles told him he'd done it solely to fill his stomach, but he was an adult. He could have a no strings attached relationship with a hot demon fox.

He didn't want to get attached.

He glanced at him, as he picked up the scattered evidence of their hook up and dumped it in the trash bin.

“Pain is a part of life.” Derek called over to him, immediately turning his gaze towards the main street. “I have a lot of it, but I wouldn't want it gone.”

Stiles nodded fixing his sweater.

“That's what one of the elders once told me.” Stiles replied, a smile cracking his face. “Come to think of it, you remind me of him.”

Derek didn't really want to hear the rest of it as they made their way to the main street.

“Except you have a much better body,” Stiles smirked biting his bottom lip and eyeing him up and down. “I'd like to see it next time.”

Derek couldn't keep the smile from his lips, the idea of a next time was tempting.

“So,” Derek called. “You...”

Stiles looked at him expectantly.

“Ate, my pain?” Derek asked around a small cough.

“Wait,” Stiles yelped. “I could?!”

Derek looked at him confused before he started laughing.

“Of, course I did.” Stiles replied. “Just took a little off the top, you’d barely even notice.”

Derek rolled his eyes.

“You feel good don't you?” He smiled. “The moment you start to enjoy it, it's game over…”

Derek didn’t meet his eyes, there was something odd and even pained in how he said it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, snap!  
> Are there strings developing? I think there are strings...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more nonsense between these two. ;P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not feeling too great about this chapter, but sitting on it and knocking my head against the wall isn't going to make it any better... It is what it is...

Derek rolled on to his back cracking his eye towards the large bank of windows. The west facing windows framed a purplish navy blue sky: early dawn.

Stiles was sitting on the edge of the bed, face lit by the light of his phone.

Derek rolled onto his side.

“Did I wake you?” Stiles called over his shoulder.

Derek was quiet, eyes drifting over the marked expanse of fair skin, red lines made by blunt fingernails, bruises made from bites along his shoulders and rough purple blotches from grips on his bare hips.

“No,” He replied swallowing back his guilt.

Stiles turned his phone off as he scooted back onto the bed sitting next to him.

Derek sat himself up.

“Sorry.” He mumbled tersely.

“What?” Stiles replied confused.

“The marks on your back, I got carried away...” He murmured running a hand through his mussed up hair.

Stiles laughed.

“You didn't hurt me.”

Derek raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

“Thought you could heal-“

Stiles smirked pulling himself onto Derek's lap.

Derek groaned, he could feel himself getting hard again with Stiles' bare ass sitting on his soft cock.

Stiles grinned wickedly at him running his hands through his tousled hair.

He'd lost count of how many times he'd actually come.

They'd tangled into one another coming right out of the lift and stumbled straight into the bed.

The whole thing was a hot hazy blur.

He wasn't even sure if Peter had been home or not, he figured he'd been out... or, he really hoped he'd made a quick exit. The layout of the loft was open and there was no privacy. Living alone there wasn't a need for it. His brain had been intoxicated by the Fox and it was clear that Stiles was eager to go a second time, and third, and it was about then he'd lost count.

Stiles ran a hot tongue under his jaw, sucking on his Adam's apple as he rocked his hips into his hardening cock.

Pulling him back to the present.

“I was too rough...” Derek groaned putting his hands on his hips with a feather-touch.

“No you weren't.” Stiles smiled. “I like it any way you want to give it Sourwolf. I want those souvenirs on my back...”

Derek pulled back to meet the Fox's whiskey colored eyes. He wanted to kiss him, but everything he did was like a move on a game board. Giving ground to try and gain an advantage...

He leaned in to kiss him.

Stiles pulled back, ducking his head. Derek felt his heart stop even as Stiles sucked on his neck, rolling his hips against him. Trying to keep him in the mood. Derek felt all the heat between them a moment ago go cold.

Stiles could feel it and eased back. Eyebrows pinched, chewing on his bottom lip, fingers still threaded in his hair.

Derek dropped his eyes to the Fox's pale chest, in front of him, marked by blossoming bruises.

He couldn't meet his eyes.

He was frozen, not sure what to do.

“No kissing...” Derek murmured chest tight. “It’s cool, I'm alright with that.”

“You sure you're okay with that?” Stiles called timidly.

Derek hesitated. The ache he felt when Stiles had pulled back from him stung. But that was on him. Not the Fox. There was no spoken arrangement, no promises of love. Just mutual satisfaction. He knew from the first that he was at the Fox's mercy.

His eyes fluttered up, meeting those dangerous honey colored eyes. Swallowing the knot in his throat, he nodded as he leaned into him, kissing the enticing dusting of freckles at the base of his neck, gliding his lips to the next. Tongue tracing the constellations scattered across his chest. Stiles exhaled deeply relaxing into his kisses as his hands gripped his hair and neck. Rocking his hips against him.

Derek raised his head, teeth grazing the pulse point on his neck. He could feel the little puffs of breath, light against his ear as tempting as the scent of prey.

This was enough; the flutter of his heart, the small sounds that escaped him, the way he held on to him.

Stiles didn't have to love him. Just allow him to love him. That was enough, even if it did end in his broken heart.

He smiled trailing his hand up his cool back and grasping his neck as he sunk his teeth into his soft neck, Stiles gasped, moaning as he tightened his grip on his hair.

Derek griped his hip with his free hand as he thrusted his hips against him.

The Fox eager to reciprocate.

Derek shifted forward picking Stiles up to lay him down on the bed as he climbed over him. His legs wrapped around his waist, Stiles purred into his ear.

He was going to burn for this.

This Fox was deviously divine, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was going to drown in him, and he knew he would be devastated for a long time after him.

Stiles moaned, grip tightening around his arms as Derek drove into him. Still feeling tight and devastatingly heavenly. Derek watched his rapturous face, grin wicked as he moved his hips thrust for thrust against his. Suddenly his bright eyes narrowed at him and he lunged forward so he was sitting in his lap as he rocked against him. Eye to eye hot breaths between, lips so close…

Derek grit his teeth, eyes focused on him; he would drink him in as long as he could.

The knowing smile on Stiles' face made his heart clench in his chest, as if the Fox knew his secret and it brought him some depraved joy.

Stiles ran his blunt fingernails roughly over his chest, as he pushed him backwards. Derek growled falling onto his back. He shifted fixing his legs as Stiles sat astride, looking down at him smugly as he started riding him slowly; hunching over to suck on his collarbone, lips sucking his Adams apple as they came to chew on his earlobe, his hips worked him slowly.

He was getting close, he felt pathetic, this Fox was undoing him screw by screw.

Stiles pulled back riding him faster, as if they were nearing the finish line.

Derek gripped his hips, bucking up into him and all semblance of synchronicity they had gone, as they almost crashed into one another. Stiles doubled over on him. Panting and moaning, helpless against his chest.

Derek reached between them stroking, Stiles’ sensitive cock. Stiles gasped digging his nails into Derek’s shoulder breaking the skin.

Cursing him as his strokes grew sloppy.

Stile’s body stilled and he came hard in Derek’s grasp. Moaning weakly against him.

Derek could feel every exhausted muscle in his body tighten, his toes curling as Stiles moved his hips against him.

“Shit!” He hissed coming again, dismayed that there was anything left in either of them. He panted trying to catch his breath body singing from the adrenaline high, body hot and sticky. Eyes seeing stars as he stroked Stiles’ sweat-slicked back.

He felt Stiles move and break their connection. He expected the Fox to climb off and head for the shower but instead he shifted so that he could lay on top of him. Derek didn’t mind, feeling his hot breath fan out on his neck, felt strangely comfortable.

“Hmm…” Derek heard Stiles voice hum in his ear. “I don't know how to tell you this... So I'll just say it: I know where she is.”

Derek peeled Stiles off him and looked at him surprised.

“What?” He croaked blinking rapidly sitting up. Moving Stiles off of him, Stiles shifted into a sitting position next to him.

“In the alley, from the wound. I know her signature.”

Derek swallowed, feeling his thoughts shoot ahead a million miles a minute.

Stiles looked uneasy, sitting cross-legged next to him.

“We can track her down?”

“I can now.” Stiles nodded.

Derek ran his hand roughly through his hair.

“How much is that going to cost?” Derek shot.

Stiles’ face fell, as if Derek had struck him, but he recovered almost instantaneously.

“Hmm…” He hummed as he drew himself out of the bed. “What do you have to give?”

“Money?” Derek replied with a shrug.

“Ugh,” Stiles groaned sticking his tongue out as he stretched that beautiful, marked up body in the bright morning light. “I’m thinking something more valuable…”

Derek bit his lip, rolling his eyes to try and make his blatant gawking less obvious.

“I’ll find her in exchange for a favor owed.” Stiles replied.

“A favor?”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied smirking. “Just a little favor for a rainy day.”

Derek eyed him warily, the Fox was old school. He’d heard a few stories about collecting favors. Things that could be called in; these were by no means mundane favors, more of the give up your first born son kind of things...

Finding her and ending it would mean that Stiles’ task would be done. He’d have no reason to stay. It was also the inevitable end of their arrangement.

Derek swallowed knowing full well the series of events it would set into motion. He sighed nodding.

“Find her.”

Stiles watched him his expression unreadable as he nodded.

“You got it.” He smiled, sauntering off.

Derek stayed, heart roiling with unsteady conflicting emotions. He’d stupidly hoped there would be more, knowing full well of the clock ticking on their time together. He sighed letting himself fall back into the bed.

This was it. The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Derek says the end is near but I still have a few chapters left so... yeah :3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visiting the ruins of the Hale House.

Derek watched Stiles typing furiously into his phone, the light from the screen lighting up his features in the dark, he hissed before killing the screen and jamming into his pocket.

The Fox was ready, having driven them to the Beacon Hills Preserve.

“I texted Peter,” Stiles announced. “Told him to meet us here.”

“Why?” Derek replied confused. They hadn’t involved Peter in any of their other outings.

Stiles just looked at him aghast.

“Oh my God!” He moaned. “Do you not feel it?”

Derek stood perplexed.

“Ah, wolves…” Stiles smiled. “This place is humming with power. It's like I'm cuddled up to a generator! Dirty, old power made from piles of corpses!”

Derek frowned. But held his tongue, the place was familiar but he avoid it. The ruins of his family home lay on the grounds.

Stiles took a deep exaggerated inhale, stretching his long limbs out from his body, baseball bat outstretched.

 “Why are we here?” Derek asked finally, ready to get on with it and ignore his weird, almost drunken ramblings.

“I'm taking a guess.” Stiles replied starting on down the path, Derek followed after, his nerves felt raw, exposed.

The clouds clearing washed the space in weak white light.

“You really can't feel it Sourwolf?” Stiles asked over his shoulder. Eyes glimmering like diamonds in the moonlight. “This whole town is sitting on some major magical powerlines. It's so strong I can feel it! Like it's trying to get inside me...”

Derek didn’t say anything, eyes on the path under his boots. He knew this path, he knew where the Fox was leading him.

What he didn’t know was why.

“This place has the feel of a Boss’ domain.” Stiles explained. “This is where we find our Boss fight.”

 “We're going to my family home aren't we?” Derek called. Stiles slowed his gait so they fell side by side.

“Yeah, I've been looking you Hales up.” Stiles replied. “Your mother and sisters died in that fire?”

Derek was quiet, if he'd looked it up then he didn’t need to answer that.

Stiles nodded.

“This creature you made, is reanimated with magic and your mother's claws. She's stuck between what remains of who she was, the one who intrudes: Talia Hale, and human instinct hotwired with wolf.” Stiles explained. “I'm guessing, the OP has been overridden by the other two.”

“But why come here?”

“It’s home Derek,” Stiles replied stopping, voice soft as he turned to meet his eyes. “When things are their worst, you yearn for familiarity, safety- home.”

Derek glanced away, it wasn't fair. Mimicking such a heartbroken expression had his heart twisting.

He nodded and they trekked the rest of the way in silence.

Stiles stopped cold coming upon the ruins of the Hale House.

Derek looked from him to the house, demolishing it had been an idea he'd considered, as well as rebuilding. Neither were things he was ready to do. So they both lingered in a wrecked limbo.

Stiles swallowed hard and was oddly quiet, whatever he was getting from the house he seemed truly overwhelmed.

His breathing was hard, eyes closed as though steadying himself bat gripped tight at his side.

Suddenly a smell caught his attention and he trailed it back, to the thicket of trees on the westside of the house.

It was wretched, acrid and sharp with the sweet smell of rot tinged in it, that made everything in him feel off, and his stomach clenched uneasily.

He could see it, the dark almost black smears on the leaves, trunk and stone. A small space, a hiding spot.

He moved closer on high alert, his senses scanning the scene in front of him and simultaneously his tranquil, dark surroundings.

The busy buzzing of insects, thrummed in his ears deafening and hungry.

There was nothing, but he couldn't shake the feeling there was something...

He crept closer, there was nothing there. Well, not nothing, a scrap of raw dark meat lay in the leaf clutter swarmed by insects.

It wasn't fresh, it was rotten like it was days old. The scent was unfamiliar he might not recognize it, were it not for the swath of hairless discolored skin attached to it. This was human.

“Eew, don't eat the evidence.” Stiles called over his shoulder, hands behind his back. Derek flinched he’d never get used to anyone sneaking up on him. “Guessing you know?”

“Yeah.” Derek replied getting back to his feet and turning towards the house. “She's here.”

Stiles did a quiet, very self-satisfied slow-mo fist pump.

“Onward!” He grinned bat aimed at the house.

Derek stepped through the door first, scenting the air, getting nothing but faint smell of burnt plastic and charred wood.

Stiles followed right after him, wide eyes scanning the remains of the house interior. Derek watched him take in the foyer deciding which way to turn.

Stiles rolled his shoulders, debris crunching under his sneakers as he turned into the dinning room. Derek stepped into the living room. Scorched furniture was piled into a corner next to the blackened fireplace.

Derek wiggled his nose trying to clear his nose of the years of accumulated dust that hung in the air.

“This place reeks of her.” Stiles whispered. “But there’s no telling if its fresh or not.”

Derek nodded.

“Check upstairs,” Derek called. “I’ll check the basement.”

Stiles looked at him but nodded heading back into the foyer to climb the stairs to the second floor. Derek made his way through the kitchen to the stairs that led to the basement.

The kitchen was unrecognizable, there was nothing left of the space where he’d spent so much of his childhood. The blackened floor groaned with each slow, careful step as he made his way to the basement door.

A gaping black mouth, stood before him. The fire had consumed the basement completely, it was a wonder the house hadn’t collapsed on itself. Carefully he climbed down the shaky beams that remained of the stairs.

Derek’s heart beat heavy in his chest. Black soot covered the interior. Here, in this place his mother had died trapped with his sisters… He scanned the scrapes on the scorched cement of the basement floor. Derek walked around the decrepit bones of a burned out sofa, his stomach turned violently. Reaching the door, he gripped the knob and turned it, pushing against it. The door was still jammed after everything. He pushed harder against it, it groaned. He growled and slammed his shoulder against it, making it shake but still it didn’t give. Again he slammed his shoulder against it, again it refused to give.

This stupid door. He roared, crashing into it full force as if to bring the whole house down.

But nothing. His mother hadn’t been strong enough to open the door then, and neither was he. He clenched the knob, feeling unable to fill his lungs, as he knocked his head against the door.

“Hey!” Stiles called from the basement door. “I didn’t find anything upstairs!”

Derek was silent, trying to reign himself back in.

“I’m guessing you didn’t either, since I don’t hear stuff breaking or flesh being shredded.” He called. “Right!?”

Derek closed his eyes, releasing a shuddering breath, relinquishing his hold on the doorknob.

“Hello?” Stiles called. “An answer would be appreciated!”

“No.” Derek replied appearing at the foot of the nonexistent stairs. “There’s nothing down here either.”

Stiles pursed his lips pensively as Derek climbed back up. Stiles offered a hand and help pull him up the rest of the way.

“You said she’d be here,” Derek growled patience exhausted as he dusted the soot off his hands.

“I was taking a guess.” Stiles replied rising back to his feet.

“Great guess.” Derek snapped heading out of the kitchen and away from the basement. Mind still trapped in the basement, feeling short of breath; lungs full with the ashes of his family.

Stiles clenched his jaw as he followed after him.

“Hey, this has been your best lead so far,” Stiles called after him. “You should be thanking me-”

“I thought you could track her-” Derek barked, spinning to glare at him. Stiles crashed into him, slamming him against the wall. The front of his shirt gripped in his fist. Eyes shimmering and dangerous.

Derek growled lowly at him, icy eyes meeting the Fox’s white-gold glare. He could feel his every muscle pulled tight with the already accrued tension of being back here. 

“This place,” Stiles snarled, he seemed equally agitated taking in a deep inhale, unclenching his fist; he nuzzled his head against Derek’s neck. His hot breath shooting electricity down his spine. The Fox’s hands hungrily running down his torso, gripping his forearms as he pressed his lithe body against his.

“What are you doing?” Derek growled, eyes fluttering; feeling his frayed senses become flooded and overwhelmed by the Fox’s invasive presence.

“You are fucking boiling over!” Stiles hissed interlocking their fingers.

Derek wanted to wretch he hand from his and shove the Fox away.

He deserved this pain, misery and anguish was a tiny sliver of what he was due.

“This pain, it isn't just permeating the grounds its scorched into your heart.” Stiles whispered lips moving against his throat. Derek shuddered.

Everything was so fucked up.

Being here, amongst the ashes of his life. In the company of this divinely demonic fox; searching for the corpse of a girl they’d mutilated with his own mother’s claws.

Grief, anger, doubt, guilt, roiled violently inside him like a storm he could never outrun. Somedays were just calmer than others.

Here.

Now, was its zenith.

He could feel Stiles’ wet lips hovering against his skin, the heat of each sharp breath. A tempting abyss of oblivion that he could drown in…

He pushed his body against the Fox’s, forcing a gap between them, with the scraps that were left of his will power.

Stiles got the hint and gave him a reprieve, stepping away from him, eyes downcast.

Another pang of guilt struck his chest as he clenched his jaw not ready to speak. The Fox’s spell clearing from his thoughts.

“Do you enjoy this pain?” Stiles asked pulling his hand from his.

Derek swallowed, suddenly feeling overexposed.

“There's, nothing to enjoy-” Derek began clumsily.

“Pain is the only thing you have left of them...” Stiles murmured coming to the conclusion in real time.

Derek’s heart clenched; effortlessly the Fox had put into words a truth he’d been fighting for a long time. He swallowed meeting his gaze; dark eyes soft, wounded. Something he didn’t think the Fox was capable of.

“Derek-” Stiles murmured voice tender, suddenly his face changed turning towards the front door.

Derek caught the familiar scent among the ruins.

“Peter?” Derek called, almost sure they’d noticed the same thing.

Stiles didn’t relax, grabbing his bat from against the wall by the door and moving towards the door.

Derek followed after him.

“Stilinski-” He heard Peter call, before he was cut off.

The rest was a 20 second blur…

Peter had been tackled to the ground struggling to protect his neck with his arms as the creature slashed and snapped at him. Stiles’ dashed at her, striking her perfectly on the back. She howled a horrible throaty gurgling sound as she threw herself off Peter. Body crouched low to the leaf clutter, black thick blood spilling from some unseen wound, before she broke off at a dash.

Stiles yelled something at him before he was off chasing after her through the preserve.

Derek finally felt in control of his body as he ran to Peter.

“Are you alright?” Derek shouted as Peter sat up, leather jacket glistening in blood, his sleeves shredded.

“She was going to kill me!” Peter cried.

“Did she cut you?” Derek asked as Peter peeled off the leather jacket.

“Did you see she was going to kill me!?” Peter cried again. He seemed more than not unscathed. The jacket having taken the brunt of the assault.

“You’re not!” Derek snapped, following the Fox’s scent into the preserve. “I’m going after them! Get your ass up!”

“I’ll be right behind you!” He heard Peter call behind him.

* * *

 

Derek could hear them just ahead of him, she wasn’t able to outrun Stiles. He could hear him laughing as he came upon them.

She was hiding amongst a fallen tree and rock outcropping. She seemed small and pitiable.

Stiles jumped up on to the tree trunk, twirling the bat in his hands as he closed in on her, she crouched lower behind cover.

Stiles lunged at her, as she moved to run but Derek cut her off. She snarled swiping at him as she staggered back, just narrowly avoiding Stiles next swing. She didn’t wait, she was on the defensive choosing to run instead of attack.

The two chased after her dodging low branches, rocks and felled trees. She wasn’t as fast as she had been. The two stayed on her tail easily as she moved to through the trees desperately trying to lose them.

Derek glanced ahead, he could just see the building and the lights cast on it past the trees. His stomach flipped as she broke through the tree line first.

Derek and Stiles followed into the clearing and Derek recognized the large building in front of him and felt his heart sink to his feet.

This night couldn’t possibly get any worse than this…

Beacon Hills High School.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BOSS BATTLE!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the fights aren't too hard to follow.

“She went into the school!” Derek growled through the shrill ringing of the building alarm, as they reached the smashed door.

“Go! I’ll be right behind you!” Stiles replied as he smashed a path through the bloody, shattered glass door.

Derek hesitated but did as Stiles said, following the trail of blood through the dark tiled hallway. The deafening ringing, painful in his ears, when suddenly it stopped.

He stood readjusting to the new silence as Stiles rejoined him.

“How did you do that?”

Stiles smiled proudly.

“It’s nothing really- but, you have no idea how many people still use 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 as a passcode, especially teachers.” Stiles grinned.

Derek stood stunned not sure if he should say anything at all.

“Oh goodie, an ominous blood trail!” Stiles chirped bounding off down the hall. “A Benny says it leads to the basement!”

Derek, growled lowly and chased after him. He really hoped it didn’t lead to the basement.

They passed closed classroom doors, walls of lockers and trophy cases. The Fox ahead was singularly focused on the blood drops and smears on the linoleum.

Stiles stopped suddenly the trail ending at a splintered wood door.

He grinned over his shoulder tapping the plaque that read: basement.

Derek was just about to reply, when all hell seemed to break loose in the room below.

Stiles stood frozen.

Derek was sure that the sound of metal groaning, and wood splintering was not something he’d been expecting. The sudden flash of emergency lights colored everything red.

“I’m going ahead.” Derek growled pushing past Stiles and through the mangled door, carefully down the stairs.

She wasn’t quiet, somewhere in the red darkness below; growling and snarling thrashing through obstacles, unable to escape: she was cornered.

The supply shelves that occupied the center of the basement had been knocked down, the metal twisted and shelves shattered. Supplies scattered on the floor. Derek eyed the pipes and wires than ran overhead, following them towards the exterior wall.

A shape shifted around the fallen shelves, Derek stopped moving; she was maneuvering around him trying to get to the stairs.

“Stiles!” Derek called, the figure snarling. “Stay there!”

“What?! Why?” Stiles yelled back.

“That’s the only way out! Don’t let her get past you!”

Derek watched her in the darkness, moving back to stand before the stairs. Low growl, he could feel the change in him as the wolf came over his features.

She stepped out, steeped in darkness.

Without warning she charged at him, arms extended, swiping at him. Derek caught her right arm and twisted it away from him; he heard the bones of her forearm crack under his grip, but she didn’t stop. Pulling back she kicked him in the chest, he staggered backwards; pulling her with him.

She snarled slashing at him with her free hand.

Derek raised his arm to protect his face, her claws sliced cleanly through his forearm.

He hissed in pain, feeling his grip slip.

She jerked her broken arm from his grasp and watched him go down, falling on his knees.

She cocked her head, glancing from him to the stairs. Derek no longer an obstacle to her, he was defenseless.

Derek tried to pull himself back on this feet, but the venom from the claws was wreaking havoc on him.

“Stiles!” Derek yelled, swallowing his pride as he cradled his arm, she turned her gaze back to him. “Help!”

He heard Stiles burst into laughter.

“Alright!” Stiles called banging the bat against the metal stairs, calling her attention. He felt like his breath was suddenly sucked out his lungs as the air pulsed with something powerful and she started towards the stairs. “Come on ghoulie! Show me your moves!”

His vision flickered as he pulled himself to his feet, his legs felt weak, but he was standing. He touched the claw marks in his arm and hissed.

They weren’t deep, but they hurt. He needed time, for his body to fight the decayed venom.

She had to be weakening, she hadn’t been able to outrun them and on top of that the effects of the venom felt weaker.

Upstairs he heard, glass shattering, growling, banging, but most unsettling of all was Stiles’ laughter.

“Get up,” He growled. “Get up there!”

Struggling to move his feet.

Suddenly he heard something heavy come tumbling down the stairs. His heart slammed into his chest.

“Stiles!” He yelled finally staggering towards the foot of the stairs. Pulling himself past the shelves.

“What?” Stiles’ voice called coming down the stairs leisurely, Derek looked up at him.

He looked untouched. Before him, the creature snarled picking herself up off the ground onto all fours.

“Stay down!” Stiles snapped, jumping off the stairs. Bring the bat down on her, she rolled out of the way, scrambling behind the shelves.

Stiles smiled, his face lit up wickedly in the emergency lights. Swinging the bat around as he moved towards him.

“You alright?” Stiles asked moving in front of him, not taking his eyes off her.

Derek nodded, hand over the wound on his forearm.

“How bad is that?”

“It’s not deep, the venom is weaker.”

Stiles hummed splitting from him as they both took the only open paths towards her.

“Well I brought her back down.” Stiles smiled.

Derek huffed, he might not be in the best condition, but he could at least remain an obstacle to her escape.

She lunged forward towards Stiles.

Derek could see it now, he could damn well feel it, as though it were beating in his own chest. The wooden baseball bat carried a heartbeat. Not like a living thing of flesh and blood, but an electrical one. Powerful enough to change the atmosphere in the room. It made no sense, but magic followed its own laws. As he swung, it whistled calling and keeping her attention focused on him.

She shuffled back. Her foggy dead eyes were set on him; she tracked him as he moved closer, maneuvering her further away from the stairs. Derek watched her. He was finally really able to _see_ her in the red light.

She was pitiable. The skin and flesh from her limbs having fallen away piece by rotting piece. Belly swollen from the effects of decay. Her black hair thin and wispy framing her sunken face. Her lips and left cheek torn off, revealing gnashing sharp white teeth. The only thing that kept her moving were the pulsing red tendrils that anchored Talia Hale’s claws to the bones of poor girl’s fingers. The power that surged through and moved her body, pure violent instinct.

She hissed lowering her body to the ground onto all fours as she tracked him circling back around the shelf, stalking him.

Derek fell back on to his knees, he could only watch, the gashes across his arm oozing black and aching. Putrid Alpha venom, draining his strength and impeding his healing.

She shrieked charging directly at Stiles with frightening speed. Stiles didn’t move, waiting; without warning she redirected, heading right for him. The thunderous crack that resound, rattled his teeth. Out of nowhere Stiles jumped over the shelving, pouncing on her. His bat making a direct hit on the back of her skull.

He knew the bones had shattered, he’d heard them.

She crumbled, like a fallen marionette; only to roll away, gathering herself back onto her feet. Swaying, black blood bubbling from her mouth as she growled at him.

Their positions completely turned around.

Stiles stood in front of him again, like was he shielding him.

“I am gonna need your help here,” Stiles called over his shoulder at Derek.

“What do you need me to do?” Derek wheezed pulling himself to his feet. Hand against the shelf to steady himself.

“She has two choices here: Kill you or escape.” Stiles explained. “She _really_ wants to bite you. So, we need to make killing you more attractive than fleeing… I need you to let her.”

Derek looked at Stiles, his heart thundering in his chest. His body was already slowed because of the venom from the claws, a bite from an Alpha, even one like this might be lethal. Stiles’ eyes were focused on her.

Derek nodded and tried to relax, he didn’t know how to make himself a target. Then again, he didn’t need to. From the beginning she’d been trying to get to him; over Peter who’d done this to her, over Stiles who had injured her- on _several_ counts.

Stiles, stepped behind him and seemed to disappear into the shadows as he waited for her attack.

She was wary, dead eyes searching as she hunched forward and crept closer, pausing to watch and then moving again.

Derek couldn’t take it, waiting to be attacked.

He staggered backwards. 

 He looked at her, just meeting her white eyes before she lunged devouring the distance between them in one leap. On instinct, he raised his hands and her claws shredded right through them. He could feel them go limp as the venom seeped in. She hissed as she leaned closer to him, teeth bared, jaws gnashing threateningly. He flinched, fearing what a bite might do.

When the teeth pricked his skin, he heard her.

His mother’s voice, tremulous and wounded; calling his name.

When he opened his eyes again, she stood before him body totally still. Stiles’ held her from behind, long arm wrapped around her neck in a tight choke hold, his left hand behind her head anchoring and applying pressure. Her claws were sunk deep into Stiles’ forearms. He’d caught her; while her full attention had been focused on Derek. He stood behind her, black flames dancing around him. He jerked her back and her body shook like a rag doll away from him. Her hands falling inert to her side.

Derek collapsed to the ground before them. His healing, sluggish as he touched the tiny indents of teeth on his neck.

He looked up, her body shook in Stiles’ grasp, but she made no sound. Dark tears poured from her eyes. Stiles released his arm from around her neck slowly, his body framed in black flames in the red light. For a second he thought he saw what looked like a fan of black flames writhing behind him. He watched as Stiles moved is hands down her weathered arms, taking her hands in his.

Derek watched in silence as the black flames spread from Stiles. licking up her arms, devouring her in complete silence. Leaving only a ghost of white ash behind as she was completely consumed.

Stiles clenched her hands, and she began crumbling like a statue of sand. The whole thing collapsing from its own weight. Then there was nothing, just Stiles standing before him Talia’s claws plinking to the ground like coins. Stiles’ brow furrowed realizing Derek was crying.

“Does it hurt?” Stiles asked kneeling down to check on him, collecting the claws and pocketing them as he inspected the wound on Derek’s neck. “I tried to get her before she caused any real damage-”

“That’s not it,” Derek sniffled trying to get himself together. “I heard her, my mother.”

Stiles watched him concerned.

Derek looked up at him smiling through his tears.

“She forgave me, she still believes in me…”

Stiles smiled tenderly, happy for him before he suddenly paled and tipped sideways crashing against a broken self and landing on his butt in front of Derek.

“Hey are you ok?” Derek asked realizing he might not be alright.

“Yeah, that venom’s still got some kick huh?” Stiles huffed, shaking his head. “And, I don’t usually do happy endings... Honestly, they’re a bit exhausting.”

Derek smiled, noticing someone coming down the stairs, it took him a second to realize it was Peter.

“Is he alright?” Peter asked approaching them. “Did he get hurt?”

He knelt behind Stiles looking from one to the other concerned.

“He’s fine.” Derek explained. “Just tired.”

“Oh, good news.” Peter smiled. “I’d feel so much worse doing this to him if he were injured.”

Derek saw the white blade flash in his uncle’s hand before he plunged it into Stiles’ back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to tie up some loose ends.

Stiles grunted pained, Derek was shocked as his uncle grabbed Stiles’ collar and dragged him away, out of Derek’s reach positioning himself between them.

“Stiles!” Derek yelled confused, body wracked with pain.

Stiles lay face down on the dusty floor, arms folded under him, body seemingly paralyzed.

“Stiles!” Derek yelled again trying to pull himself to his feet.

Peter clicked his tongue disapprovingly and easily pushed Derek back into a sitting position against the wall. Derek glared at him as Peter turned to look at Stiles.

Stiles, though face down gave a little laugh.

“Where in the _hell_. Did someone like _you_ , find _this_?” He huffed, a snarl crackling under each word.

Derek looked at the blade sticking out of Stiles’ shoulder; it was made of one solid piece, an intricately carved handle; a smooth, milky white blade, he almost thought it might be ivory.

“Not easily,” Peter replied walking back over towards Stiles and squatting down in front of him, tugging on the blade and causing him to flinch.

“Tradition makes us ash-” Stiles hissed.

“Exactly. Stateside though, we burry our dead.” Peter replied with a smile.

“Ugh,” Stiles groaned dismissively. “A dagger made from a Kitsune bone…”

“What are you doing?” Derek called finally back on his feet, Peter turned back to him. “It’s over, he helped-”

“Yes, Thank you for that.” Peter smiled rising back to his feet and throwing Stiles a glance over his shoulder. “But loose ends need tying up.”

“What are you talking about. It’s done.” Derek insisted. Suddenly it clicked, his eyes fell on Stiles, his body might be paralyzed but it was clear that his expression wasn’t; somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

“It was never about mom…” Derek murmured.

Peter shrugged dismissively turning back to Stiles.

“Oh, speaking of- where are my sister’s claws?”

“It was about him.” Derek growled, his frown solidified into his wolf features.

Derek charged before Peter could register that he was on his feet, roaring, he snatched him away from Stiles. Peter snarled back; but he was still weaker, Derek shoved him away from Stiles.

Derek doubled over, healing still sluggish; the wolf faded from his face as he panted.

He knelt next to Stiles and jerked the knife free, Stiles laughed covering up the pain with an exaggerated laugh. Derek threw it, clattering, it slid across the ground.

“Derek!” Peter snapped his eyes wild and furious. “Be reasonable! What is this Fox to you?”

Derek snarled teeth sharp, as Stiles struggled to move, his body still wrapped in the effects of the paralysis.

“This was your plan all along wasn’t it?” Derek snarled, stepping between his uncle and the Fox. “You did this to my mother for yourself.”

“Talia was an accident!” Peter yelled defensively as he got to his feet. “This? Stiles? Is just trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

“Do you have any idea of what the Keepers might give me access too, if I turn in this walking calamity?” Peter sneered.

“ _You_.” Derek snarled, still unable to get to his feet.

“Us,” Peter amended. “What they could give us.”

“That?” Stiles spat behind him. “You think those assholes are going to share with you? Wow! You are thicker than a two-dollar milkshake!”

Peter looked at him confused.

“They are using you! Jesus Fucking Christ man! Do I have to spell it out?” Stiles snarled, picking himself onto his hands and knees. “It’s what they do! Act like the good guys, but only ever ‘help’ if it benefits them!”

Peter sneered.

“That blade?” Stiles asked forcing himself to his feet, sweat peppering his temple. “Promised it could bring me down?”

Peter’s eyes dropped to the abandoned white blade a yard away.

“It wasn’t a gift, it was an investment.” Stiles huffed, gripping his injured shoulder, he smirked stifling a laugh as he shuffled towards him.

Peter snarled, the wolf darkening his features. Claws ready at his side. Derek got to his feet, he might need to help Stiles. Who stood at his side. He didn’t look like he was in any condition to fight a werewolf, not even his uncle.

 “You? You’re just a bullet.” Stiles’ smiled making a finger gun at his uncle. Peter's head cocked confused as he watched Stiles. When, from one second to the next, he threw himself to the floor, howling. Pawing at his shirt, face and hair as he writhed on the floor.

Before Derek could take a step towards him. He slowly came to a stop, breathless, disheveled and wide-eyed. He rose to his feet as smoothly as his shaking legs could get him, he ran a hand through his hair as the other fixed his shirt. Face flushed and red, glassy eyes refusing to meet Stiles’.

Stiles snickered quietly.

"You are pretty clever for a wolf, but in a game of wits, with me? I'm afraid you are out of your league." Stiles grinned the red light reflecting off his eyes in a dangerous manner.

Peter was quiet considering carefully what he was going to do next.

"If you will excuse me, "

Stiles nodded cordially excusing him, Peter said nothing to him on his way up the stairs.

After Peter’s footsteps had receded, Derek looked to Stiles.

"What did you do to him?" Derek asked awe struck.

"Gave him ten years of burning alive, in 3 seconds..." Stiles replied, shaking as he fell to his knees.

Derek pulled himself to him and knelt next to him.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked, putting his hand on the Fox’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Stiles groaned. “My legs are just not work right at this moment, so do you mind if we just sit quietly in the dark for like 5 minutes?”

Derek smiled. He could use some time as well, he nodded. Easing back into a sitting position next to Stiles.

Looking at him it was hard to believe he looked so depleted, he didn’t think there was an end to the Fox’s boundless energy.

“What?” Stiles asked noticing his lingering stare.

“Thanks,” Derek called.

Stiles scoffed, examining the gashes on his forearms.

“Services rendered.” Stiles replied.

Derek nodded, shifting away to lean against one of the shelves. It was exactly that. He needed to stop making things into what they weren’t.

Suddenly Stiles moved over collapsing next to him, Derek looked down at him.

“I wasn’t sure that last play was going to work out.” Stiles confessed. “But she wasn’t as fast as she had been.”

“Asshole-”

“I wasn’t going to let her hurt you, much...” Stiles murmured grasping his hand and taking into his lap. Instantly he could feel the ache in him ease a little bit.

“Hey,” Derek called half-heartedly annoyed. “Ask before you start feeding off of me!”

Stiles shifted to look up at him.

“I’m not.” Stiles replied eyebrows pinched.

Derek felt his face suddenly get hot, as he shifted uncomfortably next to the Fox. His hand warm in Stiles’ grasp. He thanked God they were still painted in the red glow of the emergency lights.

Still it didn’t save him as a playful smile ticked the corner of Stiles’ mouth.

He didn’t say anything and simply dropped his head against his chest again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: When Stiles calls Peter a bullet, it's a reference to an expendable hit man in Yakuza circles.
> 
> Also, apologies for the short update but we're getting close to the end now :]


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last thread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end. It's kind of corny but I'm as happy as I can be with it.  
> Thank you so much for the Kudos and comments and taking the time to read it I hope you've enjoyed.

“Ah, Peter?” Stiles replied with a smile, the Pocky stick dangling from his lips like a skinny chocolate-cookie cigarette; the older man clambered to get back out of the apartment as though it were on fire. “Did not expect to see you here.”

Derek glanced up from his cup of coffee at the table; he was not looking to get involved. His body was still ridiculously stiff from the Alpha venom.

“I could say the same _Stilinski_ ,” He replied trying for cool and collected on his way out.

Stiles grinned, chomping on the cookie.

Peter sneered, stopping before he said anything that might get him in trouble.

“ _Really_ Peter?” Stiles called mockingly, Peter Hale stopped, back pridefully straight and nose upturned as he spun back around in Stiles’ direction.

That was his cue, he should be in proximity in case his uncle decided to do something stupid. Stiles glanced at him eagerly, excited to have an audience.

“What do you want Peter?” Derek sighed crossing his arms.

“I-” Peter began opening his mouth dramatically, before Stiles raised a hand to his face to stop him abruptly.

“No. Hold up! I’ve got the talking stick!” Stiles gripped holding up a new Pocky stick.

Derek clenched his jaw, suppressing a laugh as Peter looked at him aghast.

“You _really_ thought you’d been so lowkey? That no one would notice?” Stiles mocked, cocky grin playing across his face as he crossed his arms and prepared to school Peter.

“Every place we tracked her to, there was something tied to Derek- not only that but Keeper magic.” He stated very matter-of-factly waving the Pocky stick around accusingly. “It was a little obvious. _You_ were luring both Derek and her.”

“You knew? The whole time, that it was a trap?” Peter asked marveling at the Fox as though realizing a revelation.

“I followed your advice,” Stiles replied with a crooked grin. “I didn't trust you.”

“Then why did you stay?” Peter inquired in a hiss. “Why did you help?”

Stiles’ grinned nibbling the cookie to oblivion, as they waited for his response.

“I didn’t trust _you_ , but I trusted _him_.” Stiles replied nudging his head at Derek. “And he needed the help.”

Peter smirked, a bitterly satisfied glare on his face and left, with only the metal clank of the lift gate to punctuate his exit.

Derek turned to a triumphant looking Stiles.

Derek swallowed, nervously as Stiles investigated the now empty box of Pocky in his hand.

“Do you think I can make it in the trash from here?” Stiles asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Derek rolled his eyes.

“You stayed,” Derek paused his lungs feeling short of air. “To help me…”

Stiles fidgeted in front of him, tossing the empty box on the couch.

“I’m not a complete asshole.” Stiles replied with a huff. “Don’t get me wrong. The money was good, and the sex was awesome-”

Derek felt his heart fall out of his ribcage. He nodded dropping his gaze to Stiles’ sneakers.

“Well, I guess everything’s all wrapped up-”

“Wait,” Stiles called reaching out for him. “Shit!”

 Derek just managed to avoid his hands, blinking rapidly to try keep the tears from escaping.

This was what was always coming.

“Derek, wait!” Stiles called following after him, managing to reach him; he immediately took his hands back from him.

They stood a few feet apart, Derek’s back to the Fox; fighting back tears.

He wouldn’t let that damn Fox see him cry.

“I didn’t mean for **that** to sound like _that_.” Stiles explained followed by a heavy sigh. Derek could hear him mumbling behind him. “I’m an asshole.”

Derek didn’t reply.

Behind him Stiles exhaled a shuddery sigh.

“I’m an idiot. I know, like a million words, in several languages even! And suck with all of them.” He babbled with a huffy laugh.

“Sourwolf, please turn around.” Stiles called softly.

Derek resisted, he couldn’t turn around without feeling like he would fall apart, right now.

“You owe me a favor,” Stiles called, voice dangerously uneven. “Derek, please turn around.”

Derek hesitated.

The tears had receded, no longer threatening to fall; with all his strength he put up his last wall.

He could say goodbye with a straight face, he would see it to the end.

Derek turned around to face the Fox, with the best neutral expression he could manage.

Stiles’ lip quirked as he met his eyes.

“I really want to kiss you.” Stiles blurted.

Derek felt his heart jump, rolling his eyes to keep the tears from bubbling up.

“You made the rules,” Derek bit.

Stiles nodded, dropping his gaze to the space between them.

“You let me.” Stiles replied. “I thought I could follow them.”

Stiles stepped closer, Derek wouldn’t run, he stood his ground.

“I thought,” Stiles began raising his eyes to meet his. “It couldn’t be real.”

Derek stared back, the same dangerous, warm light in his amber eyes.

“People ‘fall’ for me all the time,” Stiles explained with a cocky grin, Derek raised an eyebrow at him. The faint sting still lingering in his eyes.

“But,” Stiles began eyebrows pinched as his smile turned sad, eyes drifting down. Derek resisted the urge to try and offer Stiles’ any comfort. “Nobody falls in love _with me_.”

The moment that Stiles locked his wounded honey eyes with his, he felt his heart slam against his chest. Suddenly short of breath, unable to break the intense eye contact.

“See,” Stiles continued stepping closer. “I thought, if I made the rules. It would be okay.”

Derek could feel his facing growing warm.

“I could take just a taste.” Stiles swallowed, tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he focused on his lips. “But I couldn’t ignore it. I could _feel_ you falling in love with me…”

Derek’s eyes snapped up to meet the Fox’s, the late afternoon sun made his eyes glow golden brown. He clenched his jaw, feeling suddenly terribly exposed, under the Fox’s gaze.

“And I knew that I’d already fallen for you.” He confessed taking the final step and closing the distance between them.

“So, no kisses?” Derek voiced his final crumbling doubt.

Stiles closed his eyes and nodded, a shy smile ticking the corner of his mouth.

“I knew, if I kissed you I'd want to keep you,” Stiles explained voice small, meeting Derek’s gaze. “I just- I didn't know if you’d really want to keep me...”

Derek swallowed the knot in his throat, nodding as he leaned into him. Taking a chance (again), this time the Fox leaned into him too.

A soft, surprisingly timid kiss for all that those lips had said and done. Derek smiled, gripping his side and pulling him flush against him. Hands trailing up his back, grasping his neck as he deepened the kiss, the Fox eager to reciprocate as he wrapped his arms around him.

They twisted and stumbled towards the couch, falling over the arm rest hard.

Derek groaned, landing awkwardly with the weight of the Fox on top of him.

Stiles laughed down at him as he adjusted himself.

“Oh yeah! Injuries.” Stiles laughed. He could feel the rumble of his laugh against his achy chest.

Derek winched shifting forward to give Stiles room next to him.

“Do you want me to take a little?” Stiles offered, looking up at him. Stiles’ hand resting on his chest ready.

“No,” Derek smiled, taking Stiles’ hand in his and linking their fingers. “This is good. I don’t feel any pain.”

“Corny!” Stiles cried burying his face in the crook of his neck. “I love it!”

Derek laughed comfortably, his free hand giving Stiles’ side a squeeze. It seemed unreal, the fluttering of his heart under Stiles’ head, the light feeling of happiness, he hadn’t felt anything like it in such a long time. But it was.

Stiles made him happy.

“I love you,” Derek blurted out feeling like his heart stopped in his chest.

Stiles shifted pulling himself on top of Derek and straddling his hips, meeting his eyes and smiling warmly down at him.

“I know.” Stiles replied easily. “I love you too.”

Derek felt the breath he’d been holding escape in a quiet sigh.

“We’ve known each other like, what? A few weeks? But we Kitsune know these things.” Stiles replied matter-of-factly with a smile.

Derek smiled his hands trailing up to sink his fingertips in his dark hair and draw him down to his lips again.

Stiles was right, the first kiss had sealed his fate. He’d never be willing to give up those lips. Everything that he’d been afraid of had disappeared, and there were no doubts left. At least not about Stiles.

Stiles smiled breaking the kiss slowly, taking his hands into his brining them to his chest.

Inspecting their joined hands closely.

“What?” Derek asked looking at the Fox curiously.

“I see it now,” Stiles replied giving his right hand a tight squeeze. “I saw it just barely when I met you, but I see it clearly now. Can’t you?”

Stiles’ moved their joined hands in front of him, there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary, until he noticed there was a red string wrapped around Stiles’ pinky finger.

“What’s that?” He asked noticing the same red string wrapped around his own finger.

“The red string of fate.” Stiles explained his cheeks growing red. “It means… That you’re my destiny.”

Derek smiled cupping his face in his hand.

“I don’t really need a string to tell me that you are mine.” Derek replied.

“Oh shucks!” Stiles squirmed, getting on to his feet. “Look who’s a softy, you’re going to make me melt Sourwolf!”

Derek laughed sitting up.

He felt alright, he was still in some discomfort, but there was nothing more he could ask for. He’d gotten his mother’s claws back, the girl had been freed from the pain they’d put her through. And Peter would probably not be around as much now that Stiles was staying.

Stiles was staying and he loved him.

Derek stood reaching into his pocket, feeling the familiar coin he’d been keeping there. The pad of his thumb ran over the rough surface of the coin.

There wasn’t anything he need to ask for. Stiles was all he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)


End file.
